


Christmas Cupid

by Moiself



Series: Pipin' Hot Joe [1]
Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Fluff, Holidays, M/M, Matchmaking, secret santa fic exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-07 05:49:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5445545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moiself/pseuds/Moiself
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something fluffy, maybe about Christmas or a holiday.</p><p>Punk decides to play cupid on Christmas Eve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas Cupid

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MafiaBossPaulHeyman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MafiaBossPaulHeyman/gifts).



> This is definitely fluff, hope you enjoy!

“Paul’s here.”

Dean stuck his head through the archway that led to the little prep kitchen. Punk, his partner, in business and life in general looked up from the counter at the interruption.

“Huh?”

“Paul’s in. And he’s trying not to stare at that big guy again. It’s like watching a middle aged Romeo and Juliet...Julian...whatever...”

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Paul had been a loyal customer longer than they had owned the place. He was already part of the furniture when Punk had started working there as a scruffy twenty-something, fresh out of college and looking for a job, any job. 

He would come in everyday, unless he was in court, and take up residence in his home away from home, office away from the office, at the corner table in the window, furthest from the door, often for the duration of an entire morning or afternoon, working his way through an entire pot of usually free refills.

At first, Punk had wondered why Rod let him take up valuable real estate in the tiny establishment, but it didn’t take long for him to see the benefits of his being there.

People came to see Paul. Members of the community who needed his professional help, but who couldn’t afford the fees of the law firm he worked at, or who simply needed a few words of advice from the activist and advocate.

And most of those people at least bought a coffee, some of them stayed a while, bought a muffin or a cupcake to go with that coffee and a great many came back. So many that when the equally tiny store next door came up for sale a few years a few years after Punk’s arrival, Rod made a successful offer and purchased it, knocking through to create a slightly larger but still cosy Pipin’ Hot Joe.

Which is when Dean arrived on the scene, looking just as scruffy as Punk had when he first turned up to ask about the help wanted notice in the window. 

Having discovered long ago that he had a true affinity for and genuine love of the caffeine distribution business, Punk was by that point Rod’s trusted right hand man. So he was the one who interviewed Dean over a cup of the shop’s finest at a table within earshot of Paul. He was the one who faced the full on force of that pair of twinkling blue eyes and it was he who had to remind himself that adorable dimples were not an acceptable criteria for employing someone.

Fortunately, Dean’s resume was enough to get him a trial shift. He had a little previous coffee shop experience and although his barista skills weren’t quite up to Punk’s level, they weren’t bad.

A trial shift became a few hours a week, the few hours a week became a few days and the few days became a full time job within a couple of months. The customers adored Dean, whether for his dimples, his charm, or for the fact that every elegant latte foam leaf or graceful swan he attempted came out looking like a floppy dick, Punk was never entirely sure.

Punk had sought out Paul’s advice plenty during those first few months of working with Dean. He was no longer a customer to him, he was by then a friend, and it was the advice of a friend, not an equal rights advocate that Punk needed.

He had fallen for the newest member of the Pipin’ Hot Joe family.

Hard.

For an entire month, Punk had sat with Paul, sipping at Dean’s latest floppy dick soy latte attempt, and complained about a cruel universe that brought the most beautiful, witty, engaging young man he had ever known into his orbit, but placed him just out of reach.

“He’s not out of reach.”

“He is...he’s so young…”

“Twenty’s not young, he’s not a kid.”

“But I’m his manager…it would be so unprofessional.”

“Punk, it’s not often you hear this I know, but there’s a higher power than you. Have you tried talking to Rod?”

“He’ll probably fire me for being inappropriate in the workplace...or worse, he might let Dean go.”

“Talk to Rod, you might be surprised at what he thinks is appropriate.”

“It’s all irrelevant. What would Dean see in me anyway? He just sees me as his boss.”

“Philip...don’t look at me like that, if you’re being melodramatic, I can use your government name...Punk, judging by the number of times that he’s glanced over here when he thinks no one is looking, Dean doesn’t just see you as his boss. Unless of course he’s looking for a sugar daddy…”

“Fuck up Paul. Ok, ok, I’ll talk to Rod.”

Rod was more than ok with his manager asking his popular new employee out on a date. He was more than ok when Punk and Dean became a steady thing, and when they announced they were moving in together six months later, he was delighted that the two young men he was so fond of were happy and in love.

He was also thrilled that he’d won the bet he’d had with Paul about how soon Punk and Dean would live together. He and Paul had enjoyed many conversations of their own about why one of the two idiots just wouldn’t go ahead and make a move when they were clearly both interested.

Other people came and moved on, new co-workers, new customers, but Paul remained a constant in his corner, Punk and Dean a constant behind the counter, sometimes with Rod, but increasingly less often as time marched on.

Eventually Rod declared his intention to retire. He wanted to be able to spend more time with his partner Jim before they both got too old to enjoy the benefits of not having to work anymore. 

He called his most trusted and longest serving members of staff, the two young men he was as fond of as if they had been his own sons, into the office to break the news.

“Well fellas, it’s time I was hanging up the old apron and enjoying life with that man of mine before we’re past it.”

He couldn’t help but notice Dean reaching across for Punk’s hand, seeking reassurance at the shock news.

“You’re not that old Rod, plenty of years left in you yet…”

“Appreciate the sentiment Dean, but we all know that’s not true. Fact is, I’m not as young as I was, and I’d like to see a bit more of life before I’m taking my meals through a straw. I want to be taking it easy, reading the papers in bed on a Sunday morning, not getting up and leaving Jim snoring there so I can get my ass in here for four am to start the baking.”

Punk untangled his hand from Dean’s and scrubbed it across the back of his neck.

“How long have we got before you pull the trigger?”

“That’s the best part, I’ve already found a buyer.”

There was a sharp knock at the office door.

“That’ll be them now. Open it will you Dean.”

Dean had opened the door to a very familiar face. Confused, he returned to his seat as Paul entered and made his way to Rod’s side of the desk. It was left to Punk to ask the obvious question.

“Paul’s your buyer?”

“Not exactly. As much as I love this place, I’ve no interest in buying it. I’m here representing the new owners.”

“You say that like it’s a done deal.”

“It is.”

With that he handed Punk and Dean each an official looking letter confirming their joint acceptance of the offer of sale of the establishment currently trading as Pipin’ Hot Joe for the exorbitant sum of one dollar. 

“What the fuck Rod? Is this some sort of joke you two have cooked up sitting there in the corner?”

“Not a joke Dean. I want you two to have the place. This is just the offer, once you both sign, Paul’s going to deal with all the official legal crap, but the shop is yours if you want it.”

The small room had descended into a chaotic mess of hugs and gratitude and whoops of delight. Paul had even snapped a quick photo of Punk handing Rod a dollar bill as Dean stood behind him beaming. That picture had occupied pride of place behind the register for over two years now.

A few things had changed during that time. The decor had been livened up a little, their menu had officially transitioned to fully vegan (Punk had spent the last several years quietly moving more and more vegan friendly items onto the menus, so no one really noticed until the first tuna melt sandwich order was politely rejected) and a few new faces came and went on staff as always.

Some things remained. 

The name stayed, Paul stayed and the extravagant celebration of the holidays, Rod’s favourite time of year, stayed.

For the entire month of December the seating area of the coffee shop was a riot of gaudy decorations and greenery, fake of course, and twinkling lights, the staff’s aprons being worn over the most horrendously ugly holiday sweaters they could dredge up and the menu liberally sprinkled with the seasonal tastes of peppermint or gingerbread, and on one awful, unforgettable occasion both.

"Why can't peppermint & gingerbread go together? They're both festive..."

"Have you ever eaten gingerbread after brushing your teeth...that's why, Dean."

Punk had to give Dean his dues though, he drank the whole thing anyway, though his mumbled ‘mmm, delicious’ could have been a bit more convincing.

It never made the menu.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Dean returned to his post at the counter while Punk waited for the last few minutes to run down on the oven timer for his latest batch of pumpkin cinnamon roll cookies. 

They might not all be eaten today, but any not sold would be dropped off at the shelter along with the rest of the day's leftovers when he and Dean were headed home to enjoy their own Christmas Eve traditions of mulled apple juice, Scrooged and the same game of strip Battleship they had been trying to finish since their first Christmas together. 

He tipped all but one onto a rack to cool and headed back out to join Dean.

He handed him the warm cookie with the usual ignored careful-just-out-of-the-oven warning and glanced over to Paul’s spot in the window corner. He’d been joined by a slightly mismatched looking couple; a huge muscled blond man and his smaller dark haired, younger looking partner.

Whatever issue they needed advice on must have been pretty straightforward, since they were at the counter to order drinks barely ten minutes later. Punk couldn’t help himself from smiling at the attentiveness of the older blond to his ‘baby’, and the sweet way he reassured him that Paul would deal with the hotel that cancelled their wedding booking because they were gay and that it would all be ok, they’d find a much better place, his baby deserved much better. The dark haired half of the pair hung on his intended’s every word. They took their order to go, leaving the place empty except for Punk, Dean, Paul and the big shaven headed guy who had recently taken to occupying the corner table opposite Paul for a few hours in the late afternoon over the past several weeks.

He sometimes had a newspaper with him, more often than not a book and he was always much more pleasant when placing his order than his appearance would have suggested. Neither Punk nor Dean had managed to get much out of him though except for his order.

He had been coming in for almost three weeks, practically every day, when Dean noticed the looks.

Far too often for it to be anything other than interest, the big guy would glance over the top of his book towards Paul, and just as often Paul would do the same, each looking away hurriedly if it seemed as though eye contact was imminent.

A week later, it was Punk who noticed that each one looked for the other in their usual spot every time they came into the shop, their expressions flickering to delighted or dejected for a split second depending on what they saw.

Here they were though. Six weeks on from the realisation that they were sad when the other wasn't there and happy when they were and still no further along than a hello head bob. 

Time something was done. 

Punk headed across to Paul’s table and sat down beside his friend. 

“Cute.”

“Hmm...who?”

Paul seemed distracted.

“The couple that just left...who did you think I meant?”

“What? No one.”

Punk bit back a tiny smirk and as he sat chatting for a while over a festive floppy dick soy latte (Dean’s foam skills had come a long way over the years, but he still liked to make Punk smile), he formulated a plan. Paul had been on his own for a while, well over a year at least since his last guy had been on the scene. Punk and Dean had both liked the big dapper European, but sometimes, things just don’t work out. 

The chance he needed to put his hastily worked out plan into action came when Dean called him back to the counter for a moment. Slipping a couple of the cookies he baked earlier onto a plate he headed back to the seating area, but this time instead of making his way over to Paul, he made a beeline for the big quiet guy in the corner.

“Happy holidays!”

He smiled and sat himself down at the man’s table. 

Shyness had never been a problem for him, he had no difficulty in talking to strangers, his strangely disarming charm making them quickly forget that they hadn’t in fact known each other for years. The only slightly startled man was treated to the full force of this as Punk offered him a cookie and and started to chat.

Punk introduced himself and asked the man a little about himself. He found out that the guy had moved into the neighbourhood after Halloween and didn’t really know anyone yet. He’d moved for work, but reading between the lines and seeing a sad expression ghost across his new friends face, Punk suspected it was more than a job had the man seeking a fresh start. He was glad he decided to come over and say hello. Even if his admittedly basic plan didn’t work out, it was always good to make a friend.

At some point, Dean came to join them, bringing more floppy dick soy lattes and cookies, making the new guy laugh. He brought four though and Punk was delighted when Dean insisted that Paul come over to their table.

The four spent the rest of the afternoon like that, enjoying each others company, Dean and Punk getting up to look after any customers who wandered in before returning back to the conversation, having a more enjoyable Christmas Eve in work than they’d had in a long time.

Closing time came round and they were both needed to start the end of day routines, Dean dealing with the register as Punk boxed up all the leftover food. As they worked at the counter, the conversation between Paul and his new friend carried on.

“You took a risk there Punk, but I gotta say, I think it paid off.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about Deano, I was just being friendly.”

“Of course you were…”

Dean slipped his arms around Punk’s waist where he stood clearing the display counter and placed a kiss on the side of his neck.

“AHEM!.”

They were disturbed by Paul coming up to the counter and clearing his throat loudly.

“Merry Christmas boys, try to make it home before you start tearing each other’s clothes off, this is a coffee shop, not a strip joint.”

Punk looked up to see Paul wrapped up in his coat, their new friend waiting for him by the door. He didn’t have to see Dean’s face to know that he was grinning at the sight too.

“Happy holidays Paulie. What are your plans for the rest of the evening? Not going back to the office I hope.”

“Since Glenn here is still new to the area, I thought I’d show him around a little, grab a bite to eat somewhere. That sound ok to you Glenn?”

“It sure does, beats what I had planned, which was nothing.”

Somehow, Punk managed to stay quiet until the two older men had left and Dean had scurried across to lock the door and flip the sign to closed at last.

“How cute were they Deano? Do you think it’s a date?”

“Yes to both. Speaking of dates, let’s hurry up and get finished here. We have a date of our own waiting...I know this is gonna be my year. I’m gonna sink the crap out of your battleship!”


End file.
